Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. ” “Oh, no, please, no!” She reeled in shock and started 226 to back away from the open crypt. Nothing to check their proceedings but a declining habit of telling the truth and the limitations of their imaginations. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. . The program was to include a Bach cantata, her favorite piece from Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade, and for the first time ever, a student composition, a Concerto, by a precociously talented fellow student named Martin Chen. The clock struck half-past ten. .
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